Larsblog

While on holiday on Gotland I saw a note on a poster about an open
farm and something about malt being made. There was a phone number, so
I decided to call. Yes, the voice at the other end said, he made
malts, but not the traditional way. His neighbour did, however. Sure,
I could come visit, and if his neighbour was home we could see his
malt house.
...

Last summer, the family holiday included a visit to Gotland. I, of
course, immediately started plotting to meet a farmhouse brewer. I
began by emailing every single source that might lead me to one. This
was a slow and uncertain business, but eventually I had a number of
leads, all of them pointing to a single person: Anders Mattsson in
Hablingbo, on the southern part of the island.
...

It's only the last few centuries that metal kettles have become
something that most people could afford to own. So how did people brew
beer without a metal container to heat water in? One well-known
solution was to heat stones in a fire, and then throw them in the
liquid to be heated. I've written before about the
archaeology of brewing stones, but archaeology can't tell us how
people used the stones. So how did people actually brew with hot
stones?
...

I've collected enough evidence now that I'm beginning to get a
picture of farmhouse brewing as it was practiced in Norway in the
past. However, to understand how people brewed we have to start with
the geography, because that determined everything else. The brewing
was a tradition descending in unbroken line from the Stone Age to the
present. There were lots of changes on the way, and these were
transmitted from village to village. When you look at the resulting
patterns on a map it's obvious that the geography was tremendously
important for what influences went where.
...

On the morning of the second day of the
Lithuanian brewery tour 2015 we stopped by a small and
little-known brewery called A. Grigonio. It's literally just a few
hundred meters from Jovaru Alus. As far as I
know, it's a farmhouse brewery in the same vein, but I never got to
see it. Vidmantas said the owners were not at home, and so a tour
wasn't possible.
...

Yesterday I finally got a copy of
my new book
on Norwegian farmhouse ale. I've written
booksbefore,
but this one is different.
So many emotions, such hopes and dreams, now suddenly materialized as
a lump of pulped wood and glue. It's been my baby for a long time,
and now it's suddenly going to be flung out to the public.
...

Eventually we ran out of breweries to visit in Pakruojis, and
started discussing where to go next. I told Vidmantas I've always
wanted to visit
Kupiškio, but he didn't want to go there. I explained
that
the very first Lithuanian beer I had was from
them, and it really blew me away. It's what really kicked off my
interest in Lithuanian beer. Vidmantas looked at me queerly, then
said, "well, let's try," and started the car, heading east. (This
is part 7 of the Lithuanian brewery tour
2015.)
...

The Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU) in
Trondheim started doing research and courses on brewer's yeast a
little over a year ago. I figured this was good timing, and asked
them if they wanted to do research on
kveik (Norwegian farmhouse yeast). The answer
from professor Per
Bruheim was immediate. Yes! They would love to have some Norwegian
yeast to work on. So I've been sending them all the yeast I could get
my hands on.
...

About a kilometer from Jovaru Alus, in
Pakruojis itself, lies another brewery, called Davra. The moment we
pull into the brewery yard I see that this is something else entirely.
We're looking at a modern brewery building, not a barn, and clearly
much larger than the farmhouse breweries we've been visiting. We're
met by two men, probably father and son, in modern business
suits. These are the owners, ready to take us on a tour of the
brewery. (This is part 6 of the Lithuanian
brewery tour 2015.)
...

As a favour to me Vidmantas had left the most interesting brewery
as the last of the day, so that we could spend more time there. We
stopped the car in the yard between the brewery/barn and the house,
and got out, to be greeted by angry barking from a tiny little dog
tied to a doghouse made from a wooden beer keg. Another dog, looking
exactly like it, came to peer at us curiously, but didn't bark. Then
the brewer herself, Aldona Udriene, came out of the house to greet
us. She immediately explained about the dogs. The one chained up was
the "angry dog". He doesn't like visitors, but the other dog was the
"good dog," which is never rough with anyone. (This is part 5
of the Lithuanian brewery tour 2015.)
...